


a hiccup

by Periazhad



Series: Nest [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Betrayal, Broken Bones, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Cuddling & Snuggling, Guilt, Hair Pets, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Panic, Protective Siblings, Restraints, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Terror, Torture, eye stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 14:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Periazhad/pseuds/Periazhad
Summary: Tim hadn't taken off his panic button in over six months, but last week he quietly took it off.That was a mistake.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Nest [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199378
Comments: 92
Kudos: 390





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags, friends.

Tim’s been running back-end with Jason for a few months with no problems, but tonight he’s feeling uneasy. He hasn’t felt this uneasy running back-end with Jason...ever. In fact, he’s made so much progress with his anxiety and fear that he had quietly taken off his panic button last week. He hadn’t taken it off in over six months, and now he kind of regrets it.

He can’t even put his finger on _why_ he is so uneasy; it’s just a slowly growing feeling of dread. Normally, he’d want to see Jason’s eyes, get a hug or a reassurance, but tonight it’s _Jason_ making him feel uneasy. There are flickers of green in the corner of his eye.

As he moves toward the comm, planning to just reassure himself with a quick check-in with Bruce and Dick, Jason says, “What are you doing, baby bird? Did the analysis finish?“

“Oh, no,” Tim says, “but—”

“I don’t think it’s a good night to disturb them unless we have actual information.” Jason says it so casually, barely glancing up, but Tim swallows hard.

He hesitates, because Jason isn’t actually in charge, but turns to watch the computer finish running the results. He reminds himself that this is Jason. It’s been Jason for  _ months. _ There’s no need to distract Bruce and Dick out in the field. This isn’t Hood, and the Pit isn’t coming back. 

He rubs the spot on his wrist where his panic button used to sit, missing the comfort, and turns to sneak yet another glance at Jason, to see those blue eyes. The blood in his veins turns to ice when he sees Jason is wearing a red helmet.

Where did he—how did he— _ why _ did he— 

“J—Jason,” Tim stutters. “You—you—” but he can’t get out anymore.

“Oh, I think you know I’m not your Jason, Timmy.” The mechanized voice that haunts his dreams echoes through the Cave.

A tremor runs through Tim and he whispers, “Hood.” His fingers run uselessly over the empty spot on his wrist.

“It was fun, you know,” Jason says, prowling towards Tim. Tim wants to move, he wants to scream, but he’s frozen. “Watching you twist yourself up, convinced I was helpless and  _ vulnerable,  _ that I needed your  _ help.” _

Jason isn’t—Jason wouldn’t—but—but if this _ isn’t  _ Jason—

Tim stares into the white eyes of the helmet, unable to make a sound.

“Shall we finish this tonight?”

Six months ago, Tim would’ve said yes. Six months ago, he was terrified and exhausted and nothing felt safe. But he’s created safety—he thought he’d found safety, he even woke up this morning wrapped around Jason, but if Jason was never Jason— 

“J—Jason,  _ please,  _ I—”

“If you don’t want to die—and it’s been so delightful watching you put yourself back together _ just _ so we can have fun again—but if you don’t want to die, you need to show me you can follow directions.” 

Tim’s hands are shaking, stomach tight with dread and terror, but he nods. Bruce will—Bruce and Dick will come back and— 

“We never did get around to your eye.”

Tim can’t breathe. Ja—Hood wouldn’t, but—

“There’s a scalpel in the medbay.” 

Slowly, painfully slowly, Tim turns and walks over there. Maybe he could—but the fear rises and swallows him, like the last months never happened, and all he wants to do is keep Hood from getting angry and hurting him more. Hood has never actually maimed him, and Tim just needs to keep him happy long enough for Bruce and Dick to come back.

“Timmy, Timmy, Timmy,” Hood calls out. “I can do it for you, but I’ll take both of them.”

Tim wants to be anywhere but here, with the man he trusted, considered his  _ brother,  _ threatening to—he rips open a scalpel, trying desperately not to think, but it’s harder, it’s been so long, he can’t  _ stop _ thinking and— 

“Any day now.” 

Hood’s footsteps ring out, moving toward him, and Tim quickly lifts the knife and sets it beside his eye. Maybe—maybe that will be enough, like before, because he’s not sure he can actually—he swallows, nauseous.

And then Hood is there, hissing, “Too late, Timmy,” in his ear, taking the scalpel from him. And that means—that means—Hood said  _ both. _

“No, Hood,  _ please,  _ I’ll—I’ll do it, I swear, please!” 

He’s trying to get the scalpel, but Hood tosses it aside and picks him up, flinging him on a medbay cot, grabbing—grabbing the  _ medical restraints, _ and at the sight of the cuffs Tim’s brain whites out for a second.

“Hood, no! Stop! Please, stop!” Suddenly, he knows the brakes are off and Hood won’t hesitate to maim him, here in the  _ Cave,  _ and Dick and Bruce won’t be back in time _. _

Tim fights to get up, but Hood is relentless. He pins Tim down easily and cuffs his hands, and then moves to his feet.

“ _ Please,  _ I’ll do—please,  _ no,”  _ Tim cries out, tears running down his face. “Stop, please! I’ll do whatever you want, just— _ please,  _ don’t _.” _

Hood finishes restraining him and takes off his helmet. And it’s Hood, it’s not—but Tim looks at the malice on face that’s been so gentle and kind and—

“P—please,” he begs. “Let me go, H—Hood, please, just— _ please.”  _

Hood ignores him, pulling out a knife, and Tim yanks at the cuffs but there’s no give. Hood buries one hand in Tim’s hair, and, instead of the gentle strokes he’d get from Jason, there’s a merciless grip. Hood is holding him still so he can’t move, and the knife is coming closer to his face and Tim can’t believe—he won’t believe—

He screams, an excruciating pain lancing through his skull, and he tries to jerk away, but Hood hasn’t let go yet. He screams and screams, liquid heat pouring down his face, but the pain doesn’t go away, doesn’t lessen.

From a distance he hears, “That  _ was  _ worth waiting for,” and thinks he would be sick if he could stop screaming.

Horror spreads through him, because his eye—his eye is  _ gone  _ and it can’t be—can’t be healed, can’t be fixed, Hood actually—he actually—his eye is  _ gone  _ and— 

“I’ll wait on the other, I think,” is all he hears before a line of fire burns down his arm, and he realizes Hood isn’t—isn’t done, and it’s not going to be fast, or easy, and—

Tim tries to take a deep breath, tries to get ahead of the pain, use a breathing technique—and Hood snaps one of Tim’s fingers. And another, and another. Tim is screaming again.

“It’s not like you could be Robin with only one eye, so you don’t need working hands. In fact—” Hood steps back. Through blurry vision Tim sees him grab a—that’s a  _ gun, _ and Hood lines it up at his  _ knee. _ “—I think I’ll make sure to permanently ground you, this time.” 

“I’m not even Robin anymore,” Tim offers desperately.

“Then you won’t mind,” Hood says before he fires and Tim’s world explodes into white agony running through his body. Hood never was this aggressive before, never hurt him like  _ this, _ and Tim would have—would have tried to run for the Manor, or locked himself in a cell, or run for the comms but— 

He’s thrashing, and part of him is telling him to stop, it’s making it worse, but he _ can’t,  _ he’s  _ never _ felt pain like this, knowing he’s permanently broken. There’s no coming back from this.

“Jason,” he sobs, because although it’s not Jason, it’s Hood, seeing Jason always made him feel safe because Hood was  _ gone _ and now—“Jason,” he sobs again, hopelessly, desperately wanting his brother back. 

Hood laughs, bright and delighted, saying, “I  _ am  _ Jason.” He leans down to Tim’s ear and whispers, “I’ve  _ always _ been Jason.” 

Then he stabs the knife into Tim’s other eye. 

\---

The comm clicks. “D-dad?” Jason’s voice cracks, and Bruce is already turning back to the Cave, Nightwing in sync with him. If Jason’s calling him Dad on the open comm, something is  _ wrong. _

“Phoenix? What’s—” and then Bruce hears Tim screaming in the background.

“Is Flamebird having a flashback?” Tim keeps screaming in the background, and both Bruce and Dick accelerate their pace.

“N—no, he—he broke a vial.”

Bruce’s blood runs cold. Tim was running diagnostics on the new strain of fear gas and  _ why _ had he never considered that letting an already heavily traumatized child work with fear gas was going to backfire? There is so much for Crane’s toxin to work with in Tim’s mind already, and, as Tim continues to scream, Bruce itches to make Crane painfully pay.

“We’re twenty minutes out, Phoenix. Is Flamebird safe?”

“I—I secured him,” Jason stutters, and Bruce burns with anger to hear him so afraid. “B—but he won’t stop  _ screaming _ and—” Jason cuts off, softly crying.

On his worst days, Jason can get triggered by Tim saying, “Please pass the salt,” because he can’t stand to hear Tim ask for anything. Having to forcibly secure a screaming, begging Tim—Jason must be in hell. 

Turning to Nightwing, Bruce mutes his comm and says, “Call Alfred, tell him to get down the cave ASAP.”

He turns the comm back on, says, “We’re sending Alfred down to help, Jason, okay? It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You’re doing everything right.”

“D—dad,” Jason sobs, “He’s calling me  _ Hood.” _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mostly Jason's POV

It’s a quiet night in the Cave, until Tim drops a vial of fear gas. He stumbles backwards, and pushes the button to vent out the lab area.

As soon as it’s safe Jason rushes over, demanding, “Did you breathe any of it?” He watches Tim closely, waiting for signs of drug-induced terror. The antidote hasn’t finished yet, or Jason would inject it automatically, signs or no signs.

Tim is trembling, but more with relief than anything else. “No,” he says. “No, I held my breath until I was away. And I feel fine.” 

They both wait one minute, five minutes, ten minutes, but nothing changes.

Jason goes back to his work station, but he starts to feel Tim’s eyes on him. Every time he turns, Tim is diligently running analysis and formulating an antidote.

The feeling of being watched is making Jason feel uneasy, but he pushes it down. He doesn’t like feeling watched, feeling like someone is waiting for the Pit to come back, just waiting for Jason to make a mistake and prove he doesn’t belong, isn’t fit to be here and—

He forcibly takes a deep breath, and reminds himself he  _ does _ belong here. The Pit is gone, and no one thinks it’s coming back. It must just be knowing how close they came to Tim being compromised; the residual adrenaline making him imagine things.

Tim heads for the comm panel, and Jason asks, “What are you doing, baby bird? Did the analysis finish?“ Jason hasn’t heard the ding yet. 

“Oh, no,” Tim says, sounding surprised “but—”

“I don’t think it’s a good night to disturb them unless we have actual information.” They’re out hunting Crane, and need to keep their focus on their surroundings.

They’re both working in silence until Tim stutters, “ J—Jason. You—you—” 

Jason looks up, a frisson of alarm at Tim’s tone. “Tim?”

Tim is staring right at him when he whispers, “Hood.”

Jason flinches back. He’s  _ not _ Hood, he never really  _ was _ Hood, that was the  _ Pit _ and Tim knows that better than anyone, why— 

“J—Jason,  _ please,  _ I—” Tim sounds...he sounds  _ terrified. _

_ Fear gas _ whispers a voice in Jason’s mind, and he forces himself to shake off his horror at being called Hood, and the surge of panic he feels at Tim’s obvious fear. He can melt down later; right now he has to help Tim.

“Tim? Tim, it’s me, Jason. I think you might have gotten some fear gas. Let’s get you into the medbay, okay?” Jason’s voice is shaking

For a long moment Jason thinks it’s too late, but Tim turns and slowly walks to the medbay. Jason is following, staying back, trying not to trigger him, when Tim grabs and rips open a scalpel.

“Tim, what—” And Tim is lifting the scalpel to his  _ face _ and Jason didn’t know he could move that fast, but he’s there, pulling it away from Tim before anything can happen.

“Jesus, Tim,  _ no,”  _ Jason breathes, 

“No, Hood,  _ please,  _ I’ll—I’ll do it, I swear, please!” Tim’s panicking, frantic, trying to get the scalpel back.

If Tim is already trying to hurt himself, Jason’s going to have to—have to—he swallows. He’s going to have to restrain him. Tim’s struggles aren’t hard to overcome, and Jason pushes down unwanted memories of similar situations, shaking. He tries to hold Tim down gently, tries to tune out his begging.

“Hood, no! Stop! Please, stop!” 

Tim’s trying desperately to get away, and tears are streaming down Jason’s face, but he forces himself to keep pinning Tim down and cuff his hands, and then his feet. For a moment he thinks he might be shaking too badly to finish securing him, but he manages it.

“ _ Please,  _ I’ll do—please,  _ no,”  _ Tim cries out, and he’s crying as hard as Jason is. “Stop, please! I’ll do whatever you want, just— _ please,  _ don’t _.” _

“Shhh, baby bird,” Jason says through his tears, voice wavering. “It’s not real. No one is hurting you. You’re going to be okay.” Jason isn’t going to be okay; he thinks he might be sick.

“P—please,” Tim begs. “Let me go, H—Hood, please, just— _ please.”  _

Jason collapses in the chair, shaking, and reminds himself to do what  _ he _ wants, and not think about the Pit. He’s not the Pit. He slides shaking fingers into Tim’s hair to try to soothe him. But instead of calming down, Tim goes rigid. 

“Tim? Can you hear me?”

And then Tim starts  _ screaming _ and Jason stumbles backwards, the chair going out from under him, and he runs to the comm, because he needs his dad, he can’t—he can’t handle this, not again, he needs— 

“D-dad.” 

Jason sobs in relief when Bruce immediately responds.

“Phoenix? What’s wr—” Bruce cuts off for a moment, when Tim starts screaming again, and then says, “Is Flamebird having a flashback?”

“N—no, he—he broke a vial.” And they were so  _ stupid _ to not run a blood check, to just  _ assume _ Tim was okay, and they lost all the time they had to save Tim from living through—through whatever horror he’s seeing. Bruce could already be back, and Jason could be anywhere but  _ here. _

Jason hears Tim weakly say, “I’m not even Robin anymore,” and his stomach churns. Tim sounds so afraid, desperate, hopeless and Jason can’t even reassure him. For a moment, he misses the weight of the helmet and the guns, the ability to mete out a permanent justice to Crane, and then his panic surges again.

“We’re twenty minutes out, Phoenix. Is Flamebird safe?” Bruce's voice draws him out of his fear and anger, just as Tim starts screaming again.

“I—I secured h—him,” Jason stutters, an echo of green pleasure making him feel sick. “B—but he won’t stop  _ screaming _ and—” 

Jason can feel the tears still sliding down his cheeks, dripping onto his hands. He’s terrified of what Tim might be seeing, what he might be remembering. 

Bruce’s voice is reassuring when he says, “We’re sending Alfred down to help, Jason, okay? It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You’re doing everything right.” Alfred. Jason hadn’t even considered Alfred, overwhelmed because— 

“D—dad,” Jason sobs, “He’s calling me  _ Hood.” _

“You’re not Hood,” Dick says immediately, with the inflexible surety of Nightwing in his voice. “He’s not seeing you, J—Phoenix. He knows you’re not Hood. He’s seeing someone else.”

Jason knows it’s true, but he can remember  _ wanting _ Tim to scream like that,  _ enjoying _ it and—

“Jason,” Tim sobs, sounding utterly broken, defeated, hopeless. “Jason,” he sobs again, and it sounds like a plea.

“I’m—I’m going to go sit with him.” Jason cuts the comm before they can say anything and goes back to Tim.

He cautiously rights the chair, and sits down next to Tim, afraid to touch him, afraid to even say anything. If Tim is seeing Hood...if he thinks Jason is Hood, then anything he does... Jason has never felt so helpless.

Tim has stopped screaming, but is still softly crying, when Alfred comes rushing down. He takes one look at Jason and says, “Master Jason, go on upstairs. I’ll keep him safe.”

Jason knows he should stay, because Tim’s nightmares are his fault. Tim is seeing _ him, _ but he—he just can’t. He chokes out, “He had a knife to his—to his face, just—take care of him,” and flees back to his room, screams echoing in his mind.

\---

Tim blinks back into awareness slowly. He  _ blinks. _ He reaches his hands up to his face, to make sure his eyes are really there, and someone catches his wrist. He keens, because he thought he was safe, and a hand runs through hair. 

“Shhh, baby bird, it’s okay. We just don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Dick’s voice. Dick came, and that must mean Bruce is here, and Hood—Tim snaps his eyes open.

_ He snaps his eyes open. _

He looks up at Dick, revels in being able to actually  _ look _ because he thought he’d never get to look again, he thought Hood had blinded him and was going to  _ kill _ him, and bursts into tears.

“Oh, sweetheart,” says Bruce, and Tim cries harder, because they’re both  _ here, _ they came, and he knew they would but they  _ did _ and he’s safe. 

He wrenches his hand free and flings his arms around Bruce’s broad chest. “B—Bruce,” he chokes out. “H—Hood was here, and he—” but as Bruce’s warmth seeps in, Tim realizes nothing hurts.

Nothing hurts.

He pulls back, sniffling, and glances around. No sign of Hood. Or Jason.

And then he remembers the broken vial. How had he forgotten that he broke a vial? 

“Hood was never here, was he?” he asks, but it’s not really a question.

“No,” Dick says softly.

“You finished the antidote?”

“Yes,” Bruce says. “You were nearly there, so it didn’t take long.”

Tim scrubs at his face. “Where is Jason? I want to see—I need to see him.” He has to see those blue eyes, to  _ know _ he’s safe.

Dick and Bruce exchange a glance, but it’s Alfred who says, “I sent him away, Master Timothy. You were screaming, and calling him Hood, and he was quite distressed.”

The words hit Tim like icy water. How must Jason have felt, to hear Tim screaming and begging for Hood to stop, and when Hood restrained him—Tim swallows hard. That must have been Jason, saving him from stabbing his own eye, and Tim just thought it was Hood and— 

He sniffles again but quietly insists, “I want to see him.”

Dick and Bruce exchange another glance, and Tim swings his legs off the cot. He tries to stand, but his knees won’t hold his weight. Bruce scoops him up before he falls.

“I’ll go first, baby bird,” Dick says. “I’ll see if he’s—I’ll make sure he’s ready.” He slips away up the stairs.

Bruce starts to set him back down on the cot, and Tim says, “No! We have to follow him, Bruce, we have to go to Jason.”

“Sweetheart, Jason may not want to see you right now.” 

Tim flinches, but says, “He needs to see me. You know it helps when he sees I’m not afraid. And I’m  _ not, _ because he’s not Hood.”

Bruce walks slowly, and as they approach Jason’s room Tim can hear Jason saying ,“I should have made him take a blood test, and not just trusted he hadn’t gotten drugged. Little amounts can take longer to show up and—”

Dick interjects, “It’s not your fault, not at  _ all.” _

Jason sounds like he’s crying. “But—but it’s  _ Tim  _ and I know—I know what he was seeing because I  _ did _ it—”

“You did  _ not,”  _ Tim finds himself calling out, and Bruce sighs.

“We were going to wait, sweetheart,” Bruce chides, as he walks into the room. Jason is drying his face on the edge of his shirt, looking hollowed out, eyes rimmed with red.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Tim says in a rush. “I couldn’t believe you were Hood. I knew it—I knew it wasn’t you, but—” He twists out of Bruce’s arms, and pushes Dick aside to climb up on the bed and press close to Jason. Jason’s got his striped blanket over his shoulders, and Tim worms his way under it as well.

Jason doesn’t resist. He’s warm, and safe, and not Hood. He’s never going to be Hood, again. Tim  _ knows _ this. 

“I know you’re not Hood, Jason. It’s not you.”

Jason sags a little, and Tim feels relieved. They can fix this. They can get past this. It’s just a little hiccup in their path. 

In wake of his relief comes crushing fatigue. Jason’s leaning against the headboard, but it’s suddenly too much work for Tim to stay sitting up with him. He slides down, curling around Jason, and puts his head in Jason’s lap.

Bruce has settled in the chair next to the bed, and Dick is climbing up on Jason’s other side. Alfred sets down a tray on the desk, with drinks and snacks.

When Jason hesitantly runs his fingers through his hair, Tim closes his eyes and relaxes.

“I didn’t even see anything from—from before,” he says through a yawn, melting into the fingers moving through his hair.

“I’m—I’m glad,” Jason rasps out.

Tim’s body is heavy. Jason’s hand never stops moving, stroking through his hair in a hypnotic, rhythmic fashion. His eyes won’t stay open, and he revels a bit in being able to close them, when he thought they were gone forever.

It’s quiet in the room, and he wants Jason to know it wasn’t him that Tim saw, it wasn’t even  _ Hood _ , so just as he slips off to sleep he murmurs, “You never permanently hurt me, so when he put my eyes out I should have known it wasn’t you.” The hand in his hair stutters, but he’s too far down to care, and he slips into sleep.

\---

Jason looks down at Tim, always surprised by how much affection he feels for this kid, always awed by the trust Tim feels for him.

He cautiously settles a hand in his hair, remembering what had happened in the Cave, but Tim goes boneless next to him. Jason cards his hand through Tim’s hair over, and over, and feels a little bit more of his own tension bleed away with each pass. 

“I didn’t even see anything from—from before,” Tim says through a yawn, and yet more stress leaves Jason’s body

“I’m—I’m glad,” he says, surprised at how hoarse his voice is.

Bruce hands him a glass from the tray, and Jason takes it carefully with the hand not stroking Tim.

It’s quiet in the room, and Jason is finally relaxing, when Tim murmurs, “You never permanently hurt me, so when Hood put my eyes out I should have known it wasn’t you.”

Jason nearly dumps the glass on Tim, and only Dick’s reflexes save them. His hand is jerking through Tim’s hair, rhythm lost but unable to stop. He turns his head to meet Bruce’s eyes, and they look as haunted as his.

Tim’s gone so limp he must be asleep, but Jason’s never felt more wide awake. His body is numb, though, fingers tingling, and he pulls his hand out of Tim’s hair.

“I should—I should go,” he says, voice flat. “He doesn’t—I need to stay away from him.” But he can’t make himself move. 

“Jason,” Bruce says. “It wasn’t you.”

Dick presses up firmly against him, but Jason can’t feel it. He can’t feel anything.

“Little wing, it was never you.”

“But it was,” Jason whispers through numb lips. “I was going to do—anything you can imagine, I was going to do it to him, and—and laugh. If he hadn’t—I was going to kill him.” He looks down at Tim, still sleeping in his lap.

“It was the Pit, Jaylad,” Bruce says, abandoning the chair for the bed.

Jason is trying not to feel, but there’s pressure on both sides, and in his lap, and there’s warmth from the bright blanket on his shoulders. His hands are shaking, and tears are pricking at his eyes again.

“I—” he says, but can’t get anything else out.

Bruce gently lifts a sleeping Tim off Jason’s lap, and Dick pushes on Jason’s shoulder.

“Lay down, little wing. Everything seems so much worse when you’re tired. Can you try to rest, to sleep? It wasn’t you.”

Jason doesn’t think he can, but he can’t make himself care enough to resist. When he lays down, he ends up curled around Tim. He would do—he would do  _ anything _ to keep Tim safe, and he feels like he failed tonight.

Despite all that, he’s surprised to find he  _ is _ sleepy. Adrenalin crashes are a hell of a thing, he thinks, yawning. Maybe Dick is right.

Tim is  _ here.  _ Tim doesn’t think he’s Hood. Jason’s going to be here, if Tim has a nightmare. 

Bruce settles the bright blanket over him and Tim, and Jason lets sleep claim him. Jason can see how much damage has been done to Tim in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When they wake up, Jason still feels guilty and awful and won't meet Tim's eyes, and Tim just wants to help. Eventually Jason quietly says he knows recovery is a process, but it’s been half a year and Tim’s never left the Manor, and now maybe he never will. His guilt is obvious.
> 
> Tim’s not having that, he IS going to heal, and he needs to help Jason, so he decides to go to the store Right Now. Bruce drives, Dick and Alfred find a reason to tag along, and even though Tim holds Jason’s hand so tightly it goes numb. Jason never complains.

**Author's Note:**

> I do have the second chapter finished. Don't worry.


End file.
